


Coeus

by romanticalgirl



Series: At the Edge of the World [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicidal ideations/attempt, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Steve's out of cryo and now Bucky has to figure out a way to help him find his way back.





	Coeus

**Author's Note:**

> CW: No description of suicide attempts are discussed.

Steve had jerked away from Bucky’s touch and landed on his hands and knees on the floor. He’d thrown up and shivered uncontrollably as they processed him through the post-cryofreeze procedures. Then he was conscious enough for T’Challa’s doctors to put him through the paces to make sure he’d come out intact. T’Challa had led Bucky out of the room, and Natasha joined them as they watched through a window. Steve had stared at Bucky and every dull, monosyllabic answer Steve had given felt like a punch to the solar plexus, and Bucky dug his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. 

Steve had walked out of the medical wing as soon as he’d been cleared and given clothes, brushing past Bucky like he wasn’t there, and Natasha like she didn’t exist. Bucky could see the hurt in her eyes when it happened, the way she’d physically flinched like Steve had slapped her. 

“He’s angry. And stubborn,” Bucky ahd said softly as Steve disappeared down the hall. “And cryo messes with your head. Even without Hydra shoving you into a chair to fry your brain.”

“What now?” 

Bucky had exhaled roughly and looked down at his hand. The crescent shaped wounds almost healed. “I don’t know.”

**

Steve’s staring out a window looking at the lush landscape, but Bucky’s not sure he’s seeing it. He still hasn’t spoken to anyone, even though it’s been almost a day since he’d walked out of the lab. Bucky walks over to the window seat near him and sits down, pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arm around both legs. 

“Steve?”

“Go.”

“Steve.”

“Don’t want you here.” His arms are crossed over his chest, his feet spread as wide as his shoulders. He looks ready for a fight.

“Then why did you do it?”

Steve whips his head around and looks at Bucky. His eyes are like ice. “Because I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Christ, Steve. You have all the choices in the world! You’re spoiled for choice. Nat said that everything’s been cleared for you, so you can go anywhere, do anything. You don’t have to be Captain America anymore. You can be Steve Rogers and _only_ Steve Rogers if that’s what you want.”

“Steve Rogers died when the Valkyrie hit the ice. I finally figured that out. That’s what took so long. Maybe he died the minute Erskine’s serum met the Vita-Rays. Maybe I’m less me than you’re you, even after everything they did to you.”

“What the actual _fuck_.” Bucky gets to his feet, reaching out to steady himself on the wall. His balance is still messed up, but he’s learning to compensate for it. “You think Captain America broke through seventy fucking years of Hydra brainwashing? Fuck that. Steve Rogers did that. Steve Rogers woke up Bucky Barnes. You. You woke me up.”

Steve shakes his head. “They were supposed to wake me first.”

“And I’m glad they didn’t. You wouldn’t have said a damn word, would you? You’re so damned determined to act like you can handle anything that you’re not fucking handling anything!”

“I know I’m not!” Steve snaps, and it’s the angriest Bucky’s ever heard him. His voice is as hard as his eyes. “I’m not handling a goddamned thing in this world. Aliens and sentient computers and being called a criminal by the people I’m supposed to be working for! I do my job and then I go home, and I wonder why I didn’t _die_ in that ice like I was supposed to! And then the one fucking thing in my life that ever made sense came _back_ long enough to tell me he’d rather be frozen.”

“I was doing it to protect people. Protect _you_. That’s _my_ job, Steve. Always has been!” They’re both quiet, both breathing hard. Steve turns back to stare out the window. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Stevie.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything else left that can.”

Bucky watches him walk out of the room and sinks back down on his seat. Fuck.

**

He watches the footage of the fight that put Steve in the hospital for six months. Even from the distance the camera is at and all the sounds of the fight, he can hear the hit Steve takes through his earpiece. He’d told Friday to let it play unfiltered, and so he hears Steve land. Hears the sound he makes, hears the sounds he doesn’t. 

It’s not until after they’d taken down the last bad guy that someone thinks to ask where Steve is. The view switches to Tony’s cameras when they find him, and Bucky has to swallow down bile. Steve looks… Steve looks dead. Pale and loose and lifeless. Bucky can see the impact deep in the buildings edifice and can see the tip of the steel pole Steve was impaled on. The shield was dangling from his fingers, and Bucky is surprised he didn’t drop it given the amount of blood slicking up Steve’s hand. 

“Shit. Rogers. Steve.” Tony’s voice trembles for a second and then he’s in command, telling Friday to get medical, getting the rest of the Avengers to help him lift Steve off the pole and get him on the ground, to stop the bleeding. Bucky watches every second until Tony’s video feed ends. The next up is the media reports during and after, all of it filled with headlines about the end of Captain America. 

He starts as Natasha sits next to him. “This isn’t going to help either of you.”

“I don’t know how to help him.” Bucky hates admitting it. It all tastes like ashes on his tongue. “He’s miserable. He… He’s lost and I’ve got no idea how to find him. I’m not sure he wants to be found.”

“He loves you. He’s in love with you. You’re the only one who stands a chance at finding him.” She reaches across Bucky’s legs and takes his hand, squeezing it in her own. “He can’t find a place for himself here. His Brooklyn’s gone. Everything is different and new, brighter and louder and faster. People need Captain America, so that’s who he’s been. But that’s not who he needs or needs to be.”

“I can’t fix this.”

“He doesn’t need to be fixed, James. He can’t be. This isn’t… this isn’t something you fix. He needs someone to help him. He needs someone to talk to and to be with and to figure stuff out with. You’re learning to be you again. Maybe he can learn to be himself. Maybe you can help him see that he has people, he has friends who actually give a shit about Steve Rogers. And maybe knowing we do will help him do it too.”

She leans in and kisses Bucky’s cheek and then gets up, walking out of the room. Bucky rakes his hand through his hair and drops his head back to the couch. He closes his eyes and wonders what the fuck he’s supposed to do now. 

**

Steve’s in a pair of khaki sweats and a tank top, sweat beading on his skin as he works at the bag. His shirt is soaked through, and Bucky can see the darker line of the material at his waistband. After a few moments Steve stops and turns around. “Did you need something?”

“Well, I’d ask you to spar with me, but pretty sure that’s a losing proposition.” 

Something like a smile curves Steve’s lips. Bucky walk a little closer and sits on a weight bench nearby. Steve goes back to the bag, punching it for a few more minutes before he comes over and sits down next to Bucky. “It’s funny.”

Bucky keeps his voice soft. “What?”

“I spent my life fighting to survive. To live through everything. And I did. Against all the odds.” Steve looks down to where his hands fall between his parted legs. “I’m just not sure why.”

“Because the world needs people like you. People who are good. Strong in so many ways. People who fight for the right reasons. People who are honest and not afraid to stand up for what they believe in.”

“People need Captain America.”

“I wasn’t describing Captain America.” Bucky shakes his head. “Erskine picked you for that serum because of the man you were. You know what would have happened if you weren’t. We saw it. And don’t think I didn’t try to pull your face off when you were sleeping. Just to make sure.”

Steve huffs a rough laugh, and Bucky thinks it’s the proudest moment of his life. “That explains all those pinch marks.”

“The world was afraid, and they used you to allay their fears. But you know what? The world survived for seventy-plus years without you. They can do it again.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Actually it is.” He rubs his hand on his thigh. “They did it when you were here, right? And when you went back, took it up again, it almost killed you.”

“Better me than someone else.”

“Actually, no.”

“I heal.”

Bucky sighs. “Steve, you stupid punk. You killed a bunch of Hydra agents and Nazi soldiers. You defeated Red Skull. You saved New York and a whole hell of a lot of other places. You punched aliens. You’re eligible for retirement.”

“Hulk was actually the one to punch an alien.”

Bucky looks upward. “Okay, let’s try again.” He stands up and straddles the weight bench, settling back down on it. He stares at Steve until he has no choice but to look at Bucky. “I can name fifty people that want you to live. Not Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. Fifty people - off the top of my head - that give a shit about you. _You_. Not the ‘Star-Spangled Man with a Plan’. What… What does Bruce call the Hulk? The Other Guy? Well, Captain America is your other guy.”

“Steve Rogers doesn’t exist anymore, Buck.”

Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s chin and forces him to turn his head and look Bucky in the eye. “Bullshit. Steve Rogers is exactly who I’m talking to right now - a stubborn shit who refuses to accept that I’m right and he’s wrong. The guy who’s never believed anyone saw _him_. I’ve been seeing you since the beginning, Stevie.”

“It’s not…”

Bucky growls in frustration. “Listen to me. _Listen_. Don’t just hear. You are the most important person I’ve ever had in my life and if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t be this close to whole.”

“I…”

“Am I me, Steve?”

“Of course!”

“If I’m James Barnes, if I’m Bucky, then you can’t tell me you’re not Steve Rogers.” Bucky sighs. “Just think about it, okay? I know you’re hurting. And I know that I hurt you when I went into cryo when we just found each other again. But I did it to keep you safe just as much as anyone else. Because the Soldier has to be stopped, Steve, and I didn’t want you to have to be in the position of being the one who had to bring me down.”

Leaning in, Bucky rests his forehead against Steve’s. Steve closes his eyes and Bucky can feel the roughness of Steve’s breath. “I’m not okay, Bucky.”

“Thank fuck, because I’m not either.”

“Quite a pair, huh?”

“We are, you know. A pair. Always. Barnes and Rogers. Like a Vaudeville show.”

“Rogers and Barnes.”

“Hey, I’m the one who can tap dance.”

“I’m the performing monkey.” Steve manages to smile, and Bucky wants to see that every day for the rest of his life. However long that may be.

“There are people, you know. Who help.”

“I’m not going to see a psychiatrist. You went through trauma, and there are people who deal with that. Nobody’s dealt with this.”

“There are people who help folks who have been in comas. Help them readjust. You could…”

“No, Bucky. I can’t. I’m sorry. I wish I could. For you, for Natasha. For everyone, I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Okay. Okay. But…” Bucky clears his throat. “I can’t live without you, punk. I need you more than anything. More than fucking air. The only reason I could go into cryo was because I knew you’d be there - here - when I got out. If… If it’s that bad, Steve, I need to know. I need to find someone who can help you, can talk you down, because… Natasha said she didn’t want to live in a world without Steve Rogers in it. I _can’t_ live in a world without Steve Rogers in it.”

“I can’t promise anything.” 

Bucky knows it’s the truth, and that cuts like a knife. “You can. You can promise to try.”

**

Two months later, they get a call from Tony, and T’Challa flies them to the States in his jet. The upper New York facility is teeming with activity and Bucky keeps looking around. He doesn’t like Tony. He doesn’t trust Tony, and he knows the feeling is mutual. Steve looks nervous which doesn’t do much to calm Bucky’s nerves. 

“Cap.” Tony ignores Bucky and looks Steve over. “Seventy years in the ice wasn’t enough, huh?”:

“You said you needed help, Tony.” Steve’s voice is cool. “What do you need us to do?”

Tony goes around the table and grabs the shield, tossing it at Steve. He catches it automatically, second nature. “We’ve got something we need you and your pet assassin to look at. Assuming he’s been potty-trained.”

“Enough, Tony.”

Tony shrugs. “Friday.”

Russian fills the air, harshly barked words. Bucky tenses as he recognizes them. Waits for the triggers to trip, waits for the fog that is the Winter Soldier to take him over. Instead the last word echoes through the room and Bucky crosses his arms and looks at Tony. “Boo.”

Tony nods brusquely. “Quinjet. Fury’s there.”

**

Bucky listens to Fury with rising horror. They’re mid-flight over the Atlantic ocean and Fury hasn’t stopped talking since they took off. It all sounds nearly as impossible as the Chitauri invasion, only this time there’s an active hostage situation, a mad scientist, _and_ aliens. Or sentient, overgrown insects. Possibly both. He’s betting on both.

Clint nods at Bucky then gestures towards another area of the jet when Fury finally stops talking and moves over to strategize with Steve and Tony. Bucky follows him, offering a low whistle when he sees the armory 

“Tony has overcompensation issues. Could be his dick. Could be his dad. Hard to say. Go shopping.”

Bucky already has his tac suit on, and it only takes a few moments to arm himself with an array of knives and guns, his trusted sniper rifle in his hand. “This is fucked up, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” Clint grins, and it’s kind of maniacal. “But then again, that’s what makes us Avengers.”

“Being fucked up?”

“Yup.” Bucky laughs and Clint leans against the bulkhead. “Steve okay?”

“HOnestly? I don’t know. He’s… I don’t know if he’s better. He _seems_ better. But Steve is good at pretending.”

Nodding, Clint looks at Bucky for a long minute. “You can tell me to shut the fuck up, but I’m gonna ask.”

“Well, that doesn’t make me nervous at all.”

Clint frowns. “You and Steve.”

“Me and Steve what?”

“You and Steve. Are you _you and Steve_? Or just you _and_ Steve.”

Bucky blinks. “Let’s pretend that I haven’t exactly been in a place to understand the nuances of conversation for the past seventy years, and maybe you could explain what you mean so I can decide if I _should_ tell you to shut the fuck up.”

“I believe Hawkeye is wondering if you and Captain Rogers are involved in a relationship of a romantic or sexual nature, Sergeant.” 

Both Clint and Bucky stare at Vision while the rest of the Avengers stare at Clint and Bucky. Bucky quickly looks at Steve who is bright red and staring at the floor. Clint clears his throat. “Yeah. Sure. That.”

“No. No! God.” Bucky knows he’s blushing too. “Steve isn’t like that.” He realizes after the words are out of his mouth that he’s just indirectly admitted he _is_ like that. “I mean, we’re not.”

Natasha snorts and Fury growls something under his breath. Steve’s got his back turned to all of them now, and he’s messing with the holographic projection Tony has displayed. “Right.” Tony claps his hands. “We can play soap opera next week. Right now we have to kill slug-monsters or something. Can’t you just take a helicopter with a big shaker of salt to finish this, Nick?”

**

“How are you feeling?” Bucky sits next to Steve. Every inch of him hurts, and he can feel the bruises throbbing. He knows Steve got worse, and he knows this is his first mission back since he’d been hurt, so Bucky’s fairly sure it’s not just his outside wounds he’s nursing. “I mean, other than like you got run over by two giant slugs and a rampaging twelve-foot tall squirrel.”

“At least it didn’t gather me up and try to shove me into a tree for winter storage.” 

Clint flips them both off without looking. Natasha’s wrapping a bandage around Clint’s shoulder while he holds an ice pack against the huge lump on his head. 

“Well, not everyone looks as tasty as Clint, I guess.”

“Or as nutty,” Natasha says wryly and Clint flips her off too. 

Steve leans back and closes his eyes and Bucky watches him, memorizing the sharp lines of his face. He’s lost weight since he’s come out of cryo, or maybe he’s lost something else.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky frowns. “For what?”

“What Clint asked you. I guess that people assume we’re…”

“I don’t care what people assume. I don’t think you do either.” Bucky reaches out and rubs the back of Steve’s hand. “People are going to think what they want no matter what we do. Let them. Fuck them. We don’t owe anyone anything.”

“I owe Sam fifty bucks.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “That what cryo was about? Welshing on a bet?”

Steve smiles, eyes still closed. “You kidding? I never back down from anything.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Steve goes still, and Bucky closes his eyes, cursing himself silently. Bucky glances around and no one seems to be paying attention to them, so he turns to face Steve a little more. “You don’t have to fight every fight. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to be done. They don’t really need us, Steve, and they don’t really want me. So maybe we can just… Be done.”

“Just like that?”

“It hasn’t been ‘just like that’, and you know it. You can’t save everyone, Stevie. And you won’t save anyone if you don’t save yourself.” He cups Steve’s chin and turns him to face him. “You saved me. Can that be enough for now?”

**

“Hey! Rogers! What the hell are you doing?”

“Pulling this up.”

“Yeah, I see that. It’s the whole side of a damn building.”

“It’s not a big building.”

Bucky’s tempted to take the hammer from the loop in his cargo shorts and throw it at Steve, but the asshole would probably catch it. “We talked about this.” Bucky comes over instead and grabs the rope, helping Steve with the weight. 

“The strength’s no good if I don’t use it.” 

“Right. I didn’t say don’t use it. I said don’t lift a fucking building.”

“It’s a wall.”

Bucky looks upwards. “Mrs. Rogers, I do my best, but your son is the type that tries men’s souls, and we all know what sort of state mine’s already in.”

“No fair, using Ma against me.”

“It just means you have to admit I’m right.”

Someone shouts an all-clear and Steve jumps up on the jerry-rigged scaffolding and unties the ropes. They’re surrounded by chatter and thanks, and Steve shakes hands with all the other workers. Bucky stops by the women who is waiting not far away with her children at her feet. She’s talking to a man in her native language and Bucky doesn’t have to understand it to know she’s the one in charge and the school will be done to _her_ liking. It makes him smile. 

Steve comes to join him and Bucky looks him over. Steve’s skin is tanned from the African sun and Bucky thinks he’s actually relaxed. Steve throws a casual arm over Bucky’s shoulders as they head further into the village. “Your nose is burnt.”

“You stole my baseball cap.”

“Did not. You gave it to El Mahi.”

“ _You_ gave it to El Mahi.”

“You weren’t using it.”

“I was _sleeping_.”

“That’s not my fault.” Steve’s grinning, and it’s something that happens regularly now. Bucky’s heart twists with every smile, and puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around him. “Lazy.”

They duck into the hut they’re staying in and Steve sits on the cot. His face is pink from the sun as well, and when he takes off his t-shirt the dark line of his farmer’s tan emphasizes how pale the rest of him is. He stretches out on the cot and bends his knees, putting his feet on the canvas. Bucky stares at him for a long time. “Tony called today.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They’re sending the first shipment of vaccines tomorrow. We can meet the second one two days later in the next town.”

“Good.” 

“And Doctor Van Buren is coming too.”

Steve groans. “Why am I surrounded by dead presidents?”

“At least this guy was a better president than my guy was.” Bucky pushes Steve’s legs over and sits on the end of the cot, leaning back against Steve’s knee. “She’s just checking in.”

“I know. I know.” He reaches out and runs his fingers over the back of Bucky’s flesh hand. “She doesn’t need to though. I’m doing well.”

“You are. But she does.” Bucky turns his hand over so Steve’s fingers are against his palm. “You forget I’m with you all day, every day. You still have hard days, bad days. We both do.”

“Not as bad.”

“No. But still bad.” He looks at Steve and smiles. “Different ways of saving the world, Stevie. She’s just doing hers.”

Steve nods and sits up, his free hand stroking down the back of Bucky’s head and combing through his hair. “You saved me too, you know. Before the bridge. I was… Not great. And after. I… You were always saving me.”

“Such a sap, Rogers. Besides, it’s a mutual thing. We save each other.” He leans in and presses his forehead to Steve’s. “You save me every day.”

“Now who’s the sap?”

“Steve.” Bucky reaches up and traces Steve’s cheekbone like he did almost a year ago through the glass of the cryo chamber. He tries to say something else, but the pressure of Steve’s breath changing to a sharp intake of air steals the words out of Bucky’s mouth. He pulls back enough to angle his head and presses a soft kiss against Steve’s lips. It’s their first. Maybe the first of many if Steve’s soft gasp is anything to judge by. “Barnes and Rogers. Saving each other since 1930.”

“Rogers and Barnes.”

Bucky laughs. Neither of them are whole, neither of them are healed. But they’re both helping other people and each other instead of harming themselves. “Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?”

“Yep,” Steve laughs.

Bucky shuts him up with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

>  _A healthy dose of deep depression / Keeps you comfortably smug / Life without you can't imagine / It's become your favorite drug / Once you had your own direction / And all your thoughts were clean and clear / Now gazing at your own reflection / Makes you want to smash the mirror_ \- "At Least for Now", The Posies


End file.
